


It Goes On, And On, And On, And *Yawn*

by Pearl_Pilots_In_Chains



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Intentionally OOC, Metafiction, One Massive 4th Wall Break, Parody, Pseudo Self-Degradation, Sarcasm, Satire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23853598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearl_Pilots_In_Chains/pseuds/Pearl_Pilots_In_Chains
Summary: Roy and Riza get into a bit of a debate over a fanfic writer's choices for their relationship.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	It Goes On, And On, And On, And *Yawn*

**Author's Note:**

> I want to preface this fic by saying that it is entirely intended purely for comedic purposes. I'm not trying to call anyone out here, or critique common fanfic tropes and fellow writers. If anything, this mostly mocks my writing style. So, with that in mind, take this serious at your own risk (and sanity).
> 
> As usual, I apologize in advance for my grammatical and typographical errors.

Roy climbed the stairs quickly, determination in each step as he wound upwards.Today was the day.He had worked up his courage and was about to go through with it.Things were about to change.He was only a few steps away now.He entered the hallway where her office was, and made straight for the door.He knocked firmly and awaited a response of some sort.

“Come in.”

He opened the door and slipped into the room.Hawkeye looked up from behind her desk.“General Mustang,” she greeted him pleasantly, perhaps a bit more affection in her voice than would have been appropriate at one point, not that he was about to complain about it.“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Taking a full breath, he stepped forward, nearing her desk, but choosing to stand rather than sit in one of the available chairs.“Riza,” he began, his voice catching in his throat unexpectedly, halting him awkwardly.“We need. . . to talk.”

Her brow creased and her lips pursed as she rose from her seat and crossed around her desk, coming closer to him, until they were standing only a foot or two apart, regarding each other with their full attention.“I’m listening Roy,” she said with a steady nod.

“Riza, you deserve to know . . . I mean,” He coughed, trailing off as he cast about for the words he wanted.She motioned with her hand that he should continue, a look of expectation mixed with anxiety on her face.“Riza,” he continued, “I want to tell you . . . I’m in love with you,” He swallowed, his uncharacteristic unease an intriguing spectacle to behold.

Riza’s lips drew together into a sad smile.“Oh Roy . . . I know . . . and I love you too.”His eyes grow bright, hoping fill them.“But . . . we can’t be together.”The hope was instantaneously dashed from his eyes, which now began to look more like those of a lost puppy.

“Why not?”He inclined his head toward her, appearing quite concerned and confused.

She turned away, focusing her gaze on the window behind her desk.“Because . . . it’s too soon.We can’t be together yet.Please, I need you to understand that.”

He shook his head, at a loss.“What do you mean, ‘too soon?’Riza, I’ve been waiting to tell you that for years.”

She looked back, a sympathetic expression filling her face.“I know Roy . . . so have I.But it hasn’t been long enough.The fans, the readers, they want a really slow burn.Emphasis on the slow.I know it’s hard, but we just need to—“

“Slow?!,” He interrupted her, incredulous.“Riza, we’ve been dancing around this for years.Forget what they want.It’s not as though anyone’s even going to read this.I mean, have you seen the writing?The dialogue alone . . . sounds like something a ten year-old could write.”He glared up at the ceiling and shouted, “Hear that?You’ve got the literary talent of a ten year old!”He frowned in disappointment.“Damn fic writer.Making me sound like I’m some sort of a sentimental twat.”He looked up again.“I’m not a sentimental twat, damn it!I’m a badass!Badass with a capital B!”He shook his fist angrily.

Riza watched him, trying to hide her smile.“You know, they may have a bit of a point.You can be a little melodramatic sometimes . . .”

He raised an eyebrow.“Hey, don’t you start on me too.The last thing I need is for you to side with them!I need someone to help me hold onto my dignity here!”

Her demeanor grew serious and melancholy.“That’s not what the readers want though . . . they love it when you’re cute.When you’re sweet, and sentimental, and do adorable things like—“

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”He stomped his foot down in frustration, looking like he was on the verge of having a full-on temper tantrum.“Why can’t I be adorable without sacrificing my character and integrity!I should be able to do both.I want both, dammit!”

“You realize they’re probably eating this up right now, right?”

He scowled.“Damn, I hate to agree with you.”

“But you know I’m right.”

“Sadly.Anyway, what’s this bullshit about a slow burn?I think we’ve had an excessively long slow burn!I mean, just look at the source material!We’re not even explicitly canon by the end of it!That’s more than a slow burn, that’s a fucking slug burn!”

“Slug burn?”She sounded surpassingly skeptical.

“Alright, so that sounded better in my head.But you know what I mean.We deserve to have some good times.You know, get down to business and all that!”

She sighed, abruptly taking on a terrible British accent when she spoke again.“This particular fic writer is a bit shite when it comes to writing smut.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!We don’t even get to do that?!Also, what’s with the accent?”

She shrugged, looking somewhat bitter.“It’s not looking good.And don’t bloody ask me, I think they’ve been watching too much Sherlock or some shit, and now they want to make everyone sound like a bunch of half-assed British bastards who use one of the five overused slang terms they know.You know, throw in a ‘bloody hell’ here and a ‘git’ there, and bob’s your uncle.”It was now her turn to look up at the ceiling.“Do you even know what that means?I mean, at least look it up before you throw it in the mix!No one’s going to believe you’re English for an instant if you keep this up!”

Roy slammed his hand down on the desk, getting more irritated.“So, what exactly do we get to do?And how much longer do we have to wait?They can’t drag this fic out for much longer, it’s already getting kind of old.Meta’s never cool when it goes on too long.It’s just cringeworthy after a point.They should definitely know that much!”He looked up briefly, a challenge on his face.

“I don’t really know . . . probably just a lot of fluffy stuff.And maybe banter here and there.”She paused, appearing reluctant to continue.

He leaned in, concern written in his eyes.“What?”

She exhaled, allowing her shoulders to droop.“I think they want to make it a multi-chapter fic.To get more views.”

He threw his hands up in the air in disgust.“That greedy idiot!Not only can they not write, but they have the gall to drag this train wreck out over multiple chapters?!Hell no, I’m done with this shit!”He turned to head for the door.

“Roy, Wait!”Riza pleaded loudly.He looked back.“We need to go to a dance or a bar, or a party, or something like that tomorrow night.They want ninety percent of the second chapter to be us watching each other lustily across a room full of people, while trying to drown our desire in copious amounts of alcohol.And it’s going to end with us flirting as we leave.”

A small smile curled the edges of his mouth.“Oh, that doesn’t sound too bad.”

“But we get interrupted by my sister and a side plot before things can go anywhere, so it doesn’t lead to anything fun.”

“What the hell?”He demanded indignantly.“How does that not lead to some incredibly questionable drunk sex that’s somehow, somehow made ‘okay’ by the fact that we were totally into each other beforehand, even if we didn’t want to admit it, and that later results in our drunken hookup being the catalyst which makes us realize and vocalize our feelings to each other for the ‘first time.’”

“This writer apparently has particularly strict morals when it comes to dubious consent.Or something like that.”

Mustang sighed, a mixture of emotions evident through his disposition.“You know, I can’t criticize that.But still, that just seems like a way to taunt readers with potential fanservice, and then give them nothing.”

Hawkeye nodded.“Yep.That’s kind of the writer’s whole agenda.”

Mustang glared up toward the ceiling, looking very unimpressed.“What a bloody arsehole,” he remarked.“Dammit, now I’m suddenly British.Stop it with the inconsistent accents!”He turned and made for the door.“Alright, I’m out of here.”

“See you tomorrow,” Hawkeye called after him.“I’m sure it will be lovely!”

“Yay,” Mustang intoned caustically as he exited the room.


End file.
